


see the stars (and I go weak)

by liesmyth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/pseuds/liesmyth
Summary: Earlier, in front of all the lords of the North, she made him King. Now she takes him apart.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	see the stars (and I go weak)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [textbookchoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/gifts).



Earlier, in front of all the lords of the north, she made him a King. Now they’re in his chambers and she takes him apart, piece by piece, with gentle hands and firm words. Her cheeks are flushed with arousal and some self-consciousness, but she’s smiling slyly down at him like she know she’s got all the power. It’s inebriating.

Jon’s knees are bare against the thick carpet – she pushed him down with a hard tug to his head and bid him to undress, and he’d whimpered down at her feet and hurried to obey. The whole time she looked at him with that same inquisitive stare, brows arched and expectant blue eyes, weighing him. 

“You won us a castle,” she’s saying now, eyes glistening with excitement as she glances around. “You won us a _castle_. And not any castle, Jon – Winterfell.” 

She’s breathless, her face flushed, her dainty pale lady’s hand stroking under her robe. Jon watches her like a hungry wolf and wants to lick between her legs where she’s touching herself.

“Aye.” His voice is rough. “And these should be your chambers.”

They nearly fought about it, earlier. Jon may be a king now, but she’s Winterfell’s lady and he still feels out of place in the lord’s bedchamber – their father’s room, where he’d never been allowed in before. It’s hard not to feel like he’s overstepping where he doesn’t belong, even now that he’s got a crown on his head.

It helps it that she put him on his knees. Sansa’s fingers trail through his hair, stroking the side of his neck and Jon wants badly to lean in and press a kiss high on her thigh over the soft fabric of her fur-lined robe. Instead, he turns his face to kiss the palm of her hand, closing his eyes.

He wonders what Lord Stark would think of them now. She’s his sister and he shouldn’t, but he died and came back to life and somehow these things don’t seem to matter as much as they once did. Besides, he’s not going to spill inside of her. He’s not even going to touch her, even though he badly wants to – she let him kiss her earlier, let him slide her pretty blue robe off her shoulders and kiss her shoulders one after the other, her neck, her breasts. He’d wanted to kiss her lower, down her belly and up her thighs, worship her with his tongue until she was trembling around him. But she pushed him off gently and he went, and now she’s sitting above him with the top of her pale breasts exposed and covered in goosebumps, her cheeks pinked and her mouth curved in a teasing smile as he kneels naked for her perusal.

That look on her face makes Jon feel warmth down his chest and his naked back, hand clenching at his side. He swallows back the ache between his legs, tries to ignore his wet hard cock and heavy balls and white-hot arousal surging through his veins. 

“Will you,” Jon starts, then pauses. The words catch low in his dry throat; he feels feverish under her gaze, dizzy and filled with want, exposed in all ways that matter. “Would you come touch me?” he asks. And then, “Please.”

He’s a king, a leader of armies, and now he lays all of his power to rest in her hands. His head spins with how much he wants her.

She shakes her head, and his heart sinks. But then she smiles that impish little smile he’s come to know so well.

“You do it,” she says, “I will watch,” and Jon is sure his face is reddening as he strokes his cock under her curious gaze. It’s flushed and heavy and Jon’s breathing is rough as he thrusts against his own hand, the weight of her eyes on him pushing him that much closer to orgasm. It’s a struggle to keep touching himself slowly when all he wants is to fuck quick and hard into the tight circle of his fingers until he’s coming in a shout, but Jon knows she likes this – the slow build-up, having the control, looking at him as he loses himself piece by piece. His thighs are tense where he kneels, abdomen tight. Sansa hums.

Finally, after what it feels like eons, she gives him a small little nod that makes him whimper.

“I want you to spill in your hand, Jon.” He loves it when she says his name. He keeps at his task, still with that maddening slow pace, looking into her eyes. He wants to suck on her breasts, lick into her cunt – but she’s his sister and he’s a bastard, so he just kneels there, trembling under her gaze.

“Sansa,” he whispers when he can’t hold it in anymore. “Sansa, I’m – please.”

She nods, just as eager as he is, and watches with those keen eyes as he brings himself to completion in his hand, bared to her in every way, body and heart and soul.

“You did good,” she tells him, caressing his face. He’s spent and wrung out; he turns his face into her leg and kisses her thigh. He’s still on his knees on the floor, paying court. As his eyes slip closed, Jon thinks hazily that she would make a magnificent queen.


End file.
